


Snow Day.

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [17]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first snow of the season, and Sam is much more excited about it than Rafe is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day.

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr sentence prompt — “What are you doing? Don’t you dare throw that snowba—, goddammit!”

* * *

“Rafe. Hey! Look at this—it snowed last night.” Sam was at the window, peering out excitedly. 

He glanced over at Rafe, on his back under the covers, one arm thrown over his eyes.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, gently placing a hand on Rafe’s chest. 

“Babe. You awake?”

Rafe groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

“You gonna stay in bed all day?” Sam’s hand was rubbing slow circles, wrinkling Rafe’s shirt.

Rafe’s reply was muffled by his pillow, and Sam shook his head, smiling.

Sam leaned over, bumping his forehead against Rafe’s shoulder affectionately, then he stood. Rafe’s hand reached out, found Sam’s, gave it a quick squeeze before letting go.

Sam headed to the kitchen, grabbing Rafe’s favorite coffee from the cabinet, starting a pot brewing.

He stopped off in their room again on his way out. Rafe had rolled onto his stomach, but his head was still under his pillow.

Sam was unable to resist the urge to lean down and kiss Rafe’s shoulder. His hand found its way to Rafe’s side by habit, he felt warm skin under his fingertips. He gently tugged Rafe’s shirt lower—Rafe got cold so easy.

“Coffee’s on. I’m gonna go see about shoveling the walk,” Sam said.

He was downstairs and outside within minutes, surveying the blanket of white that covered the ground.

Sam’s first urge was to play. He loved snow. And he'd sorely missed it while he was in Panama. But he decided to at least clear the walk first.

After several minutes of trying to find a shovel with no success, he decided it was a sign.

Sam cupped his hands to his face, breathed into them for warmth.

He regretted not putting on gloves, but didn’t feel like going through the trouble of kicking the snow off his shoes to go back in and find some.

Sam reached down, scooping up a handful of snow, testing it out. Still pretty loose, powdery. He gathered up some more, doing his best to make a snowball. It was a sad attempt, he could hardly get it to stick.

He was still working at it when he heard the front door open.

Rafe, his hair tousled from sleep, drowning in his cold-weather robe, Sam’s slippers on his feet.

Sam looked down at the snowball in his hand, back up at Rafe.

His arm twitched. An irresistible urge.

“There you are,” Rafe was rubbing his eyes. “Coffee’s ready. You coming in soon, or—” He paused, noting the expression on Sam’s face. “Uh, Sam?”

Sam’s face was the picture of mischief.

“Sam, what—” Rafe took a step back, eyes widening. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare throw that snowba—, goddammit!”

As soon as Sam released the snowball, he realized his error. He’d aimed considering Rafe’s height, intending the snowball to be a near miss. But Rafe was standing on the steps, and that changed things.

“Oh no—” Sam winced.

Rafe didn’t duck fast enough. The snowball pegged him square on the side of his face.

Sam had never moved faster than he did then, almost slipping, already slinging apologies.

“Shit—Babe, sorry, I didn’t—”

Rafe was wiping snow from his face, still blinking in surprise. His face was impossible to read, and Sam prepared himself for a stern dressing down.

“I meant it to, ah…heh. I…” Sam offered an apologetic smile.

Rafe’s eyebrows raised, his face still neutral. Sam was carefully pushing back Rafe’s hair, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe off some of the snow.

Sam’s smile faded slightly when Rafe’s expression didn’t change.

Finally, Rafe nodded to the front walk. “Shovel’s in the shed.”

“Right.” Sam lingered a moment longer, his hands still on Rafe’s biceps. Finally, he let go, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed toward the shed on the side of the house.

He was not expecting the soft impact of a snowball against his back.

He jumped, whirled around in time to see Rafe standing in the doorway, clapping the excess snow from his hands. His face remained impartial, but his eyes were smiling.

“On second thought, the walk can wait,” Rafe said. “Come have some coffee with me.”

Sam’s face lit up, and he decided to push his luck, Rafe seemed to be in a good mood.

“Make a snow angel with me first.”

“What? No. Absolutely not.”

“Ah, come on.”

“No, Sam.”

“Fine, fine. But I’m gonna make one. Hey, at least come over here and help me up after? It always turns out the best that way.” 

“Always? So, you’re a snow angel expert now?”

Sam just smiled. He looked so hopeful.

Rafe sighed, resistant. “I’ve just got slippers on.”

“Yeah, but they’re  _my_  slippers, so you’ve got permission to get ‘em snowy.”

Rafe glanced over his shoulder, much preferring the warmth inside to the cold outside. But then Sam was positioning himself, falling back into the snow, and Rafe softened.

“Jesus, Sam, you’ll be covered in snow.”

He picked his way carefully across the yard to Sam, already shivering.

Sam was on his back, arms and legs fanned out, surrounded by powder.

“Feel better now?”

Sam couldn’t have looked happier. “Yup.” He held out an arm.

Rafe reached out, grasping Sam’s wrist, feeling Sam’s hand close around his own.

He saw the gleam in Sam’s eye— _Oh, how could I have been so stupid?_

“Sam, don’t you dare—”

Sam tugged carefully, and it was just enough. Rafe tipped forward with a short yelp, landing haphazardly on top of Sam.

“ _Fuck_ , Sam! Fuck!”

He’d lost a slipper, the tie to his robe had loosened, the snow was _so fucking cold._

He scrambled to stand up, but Sam had a firm hold on him, and he was rolling them over, pinning Rafe beneath him.

The cold was a shock to Rafe. He felt it against his back, even through the thick robe. But especially on his legs, on the back of his neck. It was biting.

But Sam, on top of him. Even through the layers of clothes, Rafe could feel the heat from his body.

Sam leaned down, captured Rafe’s lips, his arms wrapping around Rafe’s back. 

Sam’s kiss was deep, slow, and it always expressed such genuine affection. Sometimes Rafe worried he’d never be able to give back as much as he got.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to respond, his body gradually relaxing under the solid weight of Sam’s, his hand moving to cup Sam’s cheek.

And when Sam finally pulled back, Rafe was no longer sure if he was too cold or too hot.


End file.
